


Twelve Hours

by schulott



Series: Ice Blue [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula 2 RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, No beta I just die, POV Alternating, i guess?, may have a crack line or two because me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schulott/pseuds/schulott
Summary: Marcus is worried. Just a little, not too much. While he thinks it is quite amusing to see Callum suffer from funny mishaps outside racing, the fact that his best friend has not been spotted in well over twelve hours has to be a cause for concern. The distinct lack of response to his texts from both Callum and Mick is not helping the situation either.
Relationships: Callum Ilott/Mick Schumacher
Series: Ice Blue [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084340
Comments: 4
Kudos: 84





	Twelve Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory: I do not claim to own any of these characters, and this is a work of fiction, and is not intended to be any reference to, or be any likeness to any people in real life.
> 
> Back at my shit writing a continuation to [Ice Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437588)  
> I have not re-read this at all so I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes LMAO

Callum cannot help but feel a bit self-conscious, when he walks back into his hotel room, lugging his bag and trophy back from Mick’s room - which they have finally emerged out of when the time is past noon. The only reason that he had budged at all is Mick nearly having a meltdown over his hunger.

* * *

His lounging on Mick’s bed, after learning of Marcus’ traumatisation, has swiftly descended into Callum curling around Mick like a deadweight, trapping the boy in an embrace, as Callum finds himself getting nowhere close to enough of Mick, now that he has had a taste of it. Mick had happily obliged at first, leaning into Callum’s touch, as Callum runs his fingers through his hair, tracking the contours of his face, and pulling Mick closer with the arm he had flung over Mick’s middle.

It was almost as if Callum is fueled solely by Mick’s proximity, as Mick grew progressively more hungry as the hour dragged on, wriggling around in the confined space that is formed by Callum’s body, asking Callum if he want to get up and look for food, because, you know, people need sustenance to survive. Callum however, had not even moved an inch. Without the constraints of having to have any semblance of being a responsible adult, Mick had pulled out all the stops, just so Callum would comply and let him get on with looking for food.

Not that Mick has to worry that anyone would be there to witness him just yelling “kebab” on top of his lungs, while engaging in a tug-of-war with Callum to try and get out of bed.

He succeeded in that, it is safe to say, given that they are now walking inside Callum’s room with some take-out bags from the restaurant downstairs, neither of them relishing the possibility of being spotted and having to act responsible. Definitely not when they would rather have all the privacy in the world and do whatever they want.

* * *

What Callum has not really anticipated, is how Mick could just look at him, give him an angelic smile, or purse his pouty lips, and Callum would just comply with his wishes.

Okay, hear him out, he knows that given that he has been living in denial and refusing to imagine or visualise anything, he does not really have anyone but himself to blame for being unprepared for the eventuality that he has zero resistance to Mick.

Which brings Callum back to his current predicament of walking inside his own hotel room with Mick in tow, wishing that he has gained some superpower overnight that he could tidy up the whole place with just the thought of wanting his room to not look like a tornado has just visited it.

He steels himself and forges ahead, shoving his own bag between his suitcase and the dresser, turning around and striding back to Mick, and taking the take-out bags out of his hands, as he uses his feet to kick obstacles out of the way so neither of them would trip over anything on their way to the window side table. All the while he ignores Mick’s eyebrows that have migrated at least a few inches above their resting position as the man of his affections not so subtly surveys the destruction that has graced Callum’s room.

Okay, it is not like Callum has trashed the room, god no, he is just still staying on topic with his tornado analogy with this internal monologue that he is having inside his head.

But point is, Callum knows he is disorganised with his things, to put it lightly, and before the events of yesterday, he has not really anticipated any visitors to his room such that it would have necessitated him to not have just randomly toss his shoes, assortment of worn underwear, and workout clothes.

Or well, Marcus might barge in, but knowing him newly-former housemate, Marcus would not bat an eyelid at the state of Callum’s room, seeing as the Kiwi is literally a walking hurricane when he does not put effort to keep it together, so Callum is really small fry when compared to the master of chaos himself.

But that is besides the point. When he has his… his whatever that is… right here right now in his room, and said person is literally the king of organisation and being prepared.

At least he has had the mind to keep the windows open so that the room would not be stuffy or that any smell would just linger in the room.

He really has to resist the urge of slapping himself in the face. He really should have brought his brain with him when Mick suggested ditching his perfectly tidy room, even if he had the very valid complaint of his own room smelling like sex and they should air it out a little, which Callum concurred with, for good reason.

“It’s okay, you can say I’m a messy bitch.” Callum mutters, when Mick finally turns back around, sitting down opposite Callum and looking him in the eyes with amusement. At least he is not deciding it is not worth it and walking back out from where he came in. God, when has Callum grown to worry about things like these? Infatuation really makes people silly.

“Does that make you  _ my _ messy bitch?” Mick comments with a smirk, as he takes out his own serving of brunch, seemingly having decided that he is not one bit bothered by the wreckage that is Callum’s room after inspecting it.

But there’s also the part where Mick has just been super forward with what he has said, and Callum gapes, his brain apparently having its priorities right, because gaping at Mick’s comment is definitely more important than having an internal crisis about averting the scenario where Mick decides he is too messy.

Well mostly, because his priority should really be actually giving a response in some way, shape or form, rather than just gaping, but Callum would take what he can get for the moment, as his brain is very much still adjusting to the happenings.

“I mean,” he manages finally, “I guess?”

That seems to be enough of a response that satisfies Mick, as he nods to himself with a smile, munching on the food, while Callum is just getting his bearings straight and starting to do the whole “unpacking your take-out box and starting to shove food into your mouth” thing.

For all his ‘i hope you are not panicking’ that he has directed at Mick the first thing in the morning, Mick seems to be thriving quite well once they have gotten past the first bit, and it does seem now that Callum is the one who is floundering a bit, from self consciousness, if nothing else. Probably a bit unneeded, given how Mick seems to have already moved past the messiness and instead enjoying his meal that is sadly not a kebab.

Mick is brushing his leg against Callum’s under the table, as he makes conversation between swallowing his food, at first, of course about the outrageousness of not having kebab on the menu when he really craves one, but then it quietens down to normal chatter, just like the ones that they used to have time and again, talking about everything and nothing. There would usually be nuggets of information that would catch his attention - for example right now, when Mick is talking about how he learnt last year that Nyck actually has a skincare routine.

Callum just narrowed his eyes at Mick, like he could figure out if Mick is talking crap from just doing that, until Mick produced video evidence of the fact from the horse’s mouth. “I’d rather, I don’t know, sleep more or something than put in the effort for that.” He comments, before considering Mick for a moment, “I don’t know, you might be secretly a skincare guy for all I know.” He reaches out and runs a finger against Mick’s face, just because  _ he can _ , to make a point. Mick lets himself lean into the touch a little, though he takes that opportunity to instead point out that, “maybe I’m just born with perfect skin,” all the while sounding so satisfied with himself.

Callum cannot help but just smile at that, because this cheeky side of Mick is one of the facets that he likes so much, and now he is getting to bask in all of it that Mick is willing to give.

* * *

When Callum lets out a “not my problem” without missing a beat when Mick accidentally drops the emptied container while trying to stash it back into the take-out bag, Mick knows that Callum is back at his level best, having shaken off whatever funk that has shrouded him when they entered the room.

He does poke Callum a little for info a bit later, when they have settled down on the bed, Callum sprawling out and Mick’s head on his stomach. Callum just shrugged a little and said that he had thought that maybe Mick would be bothered by the state of their surroundings. The unfiltered honesty is always one of the things that he values of Callum.

“I know it’s really nothing big.” Callum adds.

“There is a method to chaos, I’d have thought.” Mick says, his mind a bit blank as he moves along the lull of Callum breathing in and out.

There is a vibration of a chuckle. “Do you really believe that?”

“Probably not.” He admits sheepishly. “But I’m not bothered. It’s not like I’m gonna decide against asking someone out on a date just because he has four pairs of underwear scattered at the foot of the bed.” That earns him a light smack on the shoulder.

“I’ll pretend that you did not actually count and instead focus on the fact that I hear that date is mentioned.”

“Did I say anything about you?” Mick challenges, a freeing feeling coursing through him, that he could just be himself - not that he had not been himself with friends - just that in this context he is in right now, he somehow feels more secure and carefree. He wonders if this is how being smitten feels like. He feels like he could do with more of the same.

“Sir, you’re in my room,” Callum starts with mock offence, poking Mick’s cheek while he is at it, “you’re in my bed, using me as a pillow. You better hope you’re saying something about me.”

Mick just turns his face and tries to bite that offending finger.

“Hey!” Callum yelps as he retracts his finger, lightning quick reflexes coming in handy.

Mick instead shifts so that he is on his side, and looking at Callum.

“Would you go on a date with me then?” He asks.

“I’d think about it.” Callum answers without missing a beat with a wide grin on his face that tells him he is messing with him. Mick cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes, and tries to roll around and move away, but is stopped by Callum’s hand on his shoulder keeping him in place.

“Hey, none of that.” Callum says, “you can’t retract the offer right after you’ve made it.”

“Okay. Abu Dhabi next week. We’d figure something out before the weekend.”

“Anything but Ferrari World.” Callum says flatly, “I’ve had too much of that already.”

“The lack of faith you have in me is very reassuring.” He says solemnly.

“You’re welcome.”

They stare at each other for a second, before cracking up at the same time, Mick burying his face in the fabric of Callum’s shirt as they reel in the absurdity of that exchange.

They eventually calm down, Mick just stays there with his face buried in Callum’s stomach, greedily basking in his scent, while Callum starts to card his fingers through his hair again, mussing them up again that Mick would probably look like he has a bird nest for hair later when he looks into the mirror to try and fix up his hair. Callum seemingly has a thing for his hair, given how often he touches it, and the not-so-joking threats to burn all of Mick’s caps. But he would let Callum have it, as Mick loves the feeling of fingers scraping across his scalp as well, the sensation somehow soothing to him and he relishes in the touch, feeling quite sated just by staying where he is right now.

* * *

Marcus is worried. Just a little, not too much. While he thinks it is quite amusing to see Callum suffer from funny mishaps outside racing, the fact that his best friend has not been spotted in well over twelve hours has to be a cause for concern. The distinct lack of response to his texts from both Callum and Mick is not helping the situation either. While he may  _ still  _ be a little scarred by the noises he has heard through Mick’s hotel room door when he was about to go and ask if Mick would know the whereabouts of Callum, there was no finding out if it  _ was _ Callum who was in the room with Mick doing whatever  _ unholy _ things.

He has to resist the urge to smack himself in the face, because, why did he have the genius idea of texting  _ Callum _ that he has heard things at Mick’s room? What if that is not Callum? What if it  _ was _ Callum but it did not turn out well? Not that he thinks he has any part to Callum’s ongoing denial of his crush on Mick, or that he thinks that Callum would suddenly become a mess, but this really is one of the rare times he actually rues his own lack of brain cells in retrospect of what he has done.

He is actually contemplating reporting Callum missing and sending out a search party, as he inserts the spare keycard Callum has handed him, as he always does, and checks again if Callum would happen to finally be back from whatever disappearance act that he has pulled.

Miraculously, he does see Callum, albeit lying upside down on the bed. Callum notices the disturbance, turning his head and seeing Marcus approaching. He looks oddly chirper.

“Cal, why are you upside dow-” He starts as he finally round the corner and catches a glimpse of the bed.

“Jesus fuck,” He curses, startled, before realising it’s not as bad as what he thought he has seen. “Oh thank fuck, I thought I walked in on you getting blown.” He says, brain to mouth filter fully malfunctioning.

Mick flops around on Callum’s stomach and groans at that.

Callum just bursts out laughing, gasping between his breath, “He’s definitely traumatised!”

“And my peace is brutally destroyed, Marcus.” Mick says with a deadpan.

Callum sits up, brushing his hand through Mick’s hair that is in absolute disarray, trying and failing to make him a little more presentable. “What brings you here?” He asks Marcus casually.

Marcus has to resist or his eyes might actually roll into the back of his head. “I dunno, I thought I’d have to pull you out of a ditch somewhere after you just disappeared off the face of the earth for like twelve, scratch that, thirteen hours.”

He’s not mad, really, just a bit exasperated at the situation.

“I’d assume you’ve forgotten that you’ve promised to buy Jüri and Christian a pint for last night.”

Callum, to his credit, does seem horrified at the mention of that. “Oh shit. I totally forgot.”

“Yeah, I’ve covered for you.” Marcus says, as he finally addresses the elephant in the room, pointing between Callum and Mick, who seems to have checked out of the conversation with his eyes closed, resting his head in Callum’s lap. “So, this is a thing now?”

Callum shrugs, like he has just been asked an interview question that he does not care enough about or know the answer to and shrugging it off. “Dunno,” he says, before jostling Mick, “are we?”

“Something like that.” Mick says.

Marcus decides he does not need to know, beyond the fact that Callum would most likely finally do away with his whole denial thing, so that is enough for him, so he just makes him scarce, knowing no missing person report needs to be filed, no search party needs to be sent out, and the world somehow has not exploded despite everything going weird last night.

“Eh, whatever, I don’t need to know what you’re up to.” He declares as he walks away.

“Use protection, kids!” he yells as he closes the door behind him, catching a glimpse of Callum and Mick both flipping him off.

He has a feeling that those two will become one of those couples that just always orbit around each other and be disgustingly in love. He is not sure if he prefers that or the constantly-in-denial Callum. Probably neither. He really needs new friends.

Nah. He is happy that Callum finally fucking got it together.

* * *

“When are you flying out to Abu Dhabi again?” Mick asks, as he pokes around on Callum’s laptop, using it to look at his own itinerary for the weekend, seeing how it is filled with media obligations among the stuff he has to do with Haas. It’s going to be a busy one, but at least there is now an added perk that he gets a healthy dosage of Callum as well, seeing as he will be with the Alfa team for the weekend and testing there as well.

“Think it’s Thursday morning.” Callum answers from the bathroom, where he is trying to wash his sneakers for some reason.

“Don’t forget we’ll still need to get our nostrils penetrated and all that!” Callum adds, when Mick finally writes it down so he can have a better handle of all the time.

“There are better holes to penetrate.” Mick mutters as he smashes his head on the keyboard.

He jumps in place, as, somehow Callum is right there next to him, whispering into his ear. “Oh, I know.”

“No funny business here.” Mick narrows his eyes at Callum, who raises his hands and walks back into the bathroom to continue with his titanic battle with his own shoes, leaving Mick alone to be productive for a while, getting his emails done and reading over briefs for the media interviews so he has a general idea of what would be covered and all that.

It must be like the better part of two hours when he finally decides he has had enough reading that words cease to make sense to him, when in the meantime Callum has gone and hang up his shoes to dry by the window, disappeared out of the room to god knows where and came back with food, and disappeared again after making sure Mick has started to consume his dinner.

He has his headphones on, working on some light stretching workouts to work off some of his restless energy, when a pair of hands land on his sides.

He is not ashamed to admit that he can tell those are Callum’s hands from just how they feel and fit on his sides. He willingly gets spun around to look at him, pulling off his headphones in the process.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Mick responds, “what have you been up to?”

“Just hung out with a few of the guys, so you could focus on your stuff.”

“Yeah, thank you for that. I needed that.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” Callum starts, leaning close to Mick’s left year, “but if you’re so inclined, I know of a way or two you can do that.”

“Oh? Show me.” Two can play a game.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find my side Tumblr for this ao3 a/c: [schulott](https://schulott.tumblr.com/).


End file.
